


sink or swim

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Flirting, College Student Stiles, M/M, Plumber! Derek, Pre-Slash, can't believe i ended this fic on the joke that i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you hear to clean my pipes?” Stiles asked without thinking, his mouth running away from his brain like it tended to do when they came face-to-face with someone devastatingly gorgeous. And just like always, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut in utter mortification and prayed to <i>God</i> that he hadn’t just said that out loud. </p><p>aka<br/>plumber!derek au</p>
            </blockquote>





	sink or swim

**Author's Note:**

> “Are you hear to clean my pipes?” Stiles asked without thinking, his mouth running away from his brain like it tended to do when they came face-to-face with someone devastatingly gorgeous. And just like always, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut in utter mortification and prayed to  _God_  that he hadn’t just said that out loud.  
  


It was only after a fairly lengthy, stony silence that Stiles nervously cracked one eye open and peeked up at the guy holding the toolbox and realized that yeeeah. He really _ha_ d said that seriously lame line to the plumber. And judging by the unimpressed glare-frown combo Hot Plumber was sporting? He’d heard that one a million times. “I meant my sink.” Stiles corrected himself meekly. “My kitchen sink pipes I mean. Those pipes need cleaning because they're just... gross.”  
  


“I got that part from your complaint.” Hot Plumber spoke in a voice that was as clear and refreshing as a cool stream in a forest. Surprisingly low for his appearance however, Stiles wanted to point that out. It completely went against the angry serial killer vibe that he was sending out. And speaking of sending out vibes, Stiles wondered what kind of message the guy was sending out by wearing a dirty wife beater and jeans that  _tight_. Bow chika bow  _wow_. Did it make him a horrible person for thinking that this guy looking like he was a walking porn star?   
  


While Stiles tried not to wolf whistle at the man’s thighs (works of art, they were works of fucking  _art_ ), Hot Plumber gave the inside of the apartment a dead panned look before asking, “You want me to fix the damned thing or not?”  
  


“Huh?” Stiles asked intelligently. “Oh. Right. Right. Come on in. I’ll show you the sink.” Pulling the door open wider to let Hot Plumber in, Stiles turned around and made a beeline towards the clogged kitchen sink. Which Hot Plumber had probably seen already because it was right across from the front door and therefore, in his line of sight. Dammit. This was just not his day.  
  


Gesturing towards the sink, Stiles mumbled, “Have at it.”  
  


He jumped when the man brushed by him, his toolbox colliding into the back of Stiles’ knee painfully hard. Stiles swore and hopped away, banging his hip into the table. With a glare at the plumber’s back, his toolbox and then the wooden table, Stiles plopped back down into his abandoned seat and dragged his laptop forward. What a crap day.  
  


And  _double_  crap. Stiles dropped his head on the table and banged it a few times for good measure when he finished reading the reply that his thesis advisor had sent him.  _‘Fucking Finstock_.’ Stiles whined, rubbing his nose into the wood.  _'I don’t wanna re-do the proposal for the third_   _time!_ ’  
  


A heavy clank made Stiles jerk in his seat but not raise his head. “When was the last time you cleaned this shit out?” The muffled inquiry sounded extremely pissed and highly judgemental.   
  


Stiles thought about it and answered within a few seconds, “Never. I just moved in here 2 months ago.” There was another clank and something that suspiciously sounded like under-the-breath, grumbled cursing. Stiles ignored it until he distinctly heard 'entitled college brat’ somewhere in the middle.  
  


Sitting up like a shot, Stiles had at least four different retorts ready to be thrown at the man but they all crashed into each other like a highway car accident and what came out was, at best, a garbled  _sound_. Something that resembled a surprised angry cat whose tail just got stepped on.  
  


The plumber was on all fours, head inside the cabinet and his ass, his perky, perky ass, was on display. Like, porno style. ’ _Much to my dismay_.’ Stiles brain moans in agony. ’ _Is that his phone in the back pocket? If I touch it, I wonder if I could access the menu._ _Where’s my phone. Can I take a picture of this? Would that be too creepy?'_  He felt like he had too though, creepiness or not. For the sake of posterity. Oh  _God_ , why was he making such terrible jokes.  
  


“Fuck!” The curse made Stiles stretch, trying to catch a peek at whatever it was that had made Hot Plumber curse. Stiles watched him pull out, gray wife beater now stained with an unidentifiable black goop and a darker glare on his face. It made him hide behind his laptop, sneaking peeks from the side to watch the man wipe his hands clean and pull his phone out of his back pocket and growl, “Hale here.”  
  


Hale. What a good name. And if you would permit him, it was one Hale of a name. Would someone just take a brick to his head already, _Jesus_. Groaning at his own terrible sense of humor, Stiles realized that he’s missed part of Hale’s conversation. “Don’t 'Derek’ me.” Aha~ His name was Derek Hale. That was one less mystery to solve by trying to coerce Danny to hack into the company’s employee database in order to find out the man’s name. “I’m busy today, I won’t be abl-  _Cora_!”  
  


Girlfriend? Stiles assumed it had to be a girlfriend. Or maybe a best friend. Or maybe a sister. There were only so many people who you can yell at like that right? “Girlfriend?” Stiles asked with all the casualness of the most casual person ever. He was like smooth criminal or something, minus the criminal part.  
  


“Baby sister.” Derek growled, slipping the phone angrily back into his jeans pocket. “Wants me to do run some errands for her. Like I don’t have enough on my plate.” Being an only child, Stiles can’t really relate to that but he figured that making a sympathetic 'I feel you buddy’ noise ought be good enough.  
  


The noise died a tragic, sudden death when Derek tightened his fingers into his wifebeater and pulled it off. Like he was some kind of damned male model. It didn’t matter to Stiles that Derek had done it angrily because oh  _God_ , he REALLY needed a camera ASAP to take a picture of those rippling back muscles.  
  


“You have any brothers or sisters?” Derek asked, balling the dirty cloth up and shoving it into his toolbox before glancing up at Stiles.  
  


It took him a moment to stop ogling all that  _skin_ and all those lickable muscles. “Nope.” He popped the 'p’ at the end. “Only child. The closest thing I’ve got to a brother is my best friend, Scott. We’re like two peas in a pod, which'z led to some seriously awkward misconceptions about us like we’re dating and stuff but that’s seriously gross cause he’s like my brother and all. And it’s not that I’m not into guys cause I am but I’m 99% sure that Scott’s strictly just into Isaac when it comes to guys. Or well he’s just totally Allison-Isaac-sexual and not Stiles-sexual, thank God for that.”  
  


Stiles blinked at Derek, pressing his lips together too late because hey look at that, all the babble had come out on it’s own and was now flopping around on the floor like a dying fish. “No siblings, no.” Stiles finished weakly, wanting the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. No, he didn’t care that they were on the 3rd floor, he wanted the apartment floor to just open up and take him down to China! Timbuktoo! Anywhere but here!  
  


Derek looked completely thrown for a loop before he muttered, “Consider yourself lucky.” and disappeared under the sink again. Lucky wasn’t exactly the word Stiles would use but… he’d take it. 

 

Discreetly, oh so discreetly, Stiles reached out for the bag pack hanging off the corner of the nearby chair and pulled out his phone. With a silent apology to anyone who was listening, Stiles pulled the Camera up and turned his phone towards Derek. Who was now lying on his back, frowning up at the pipes as his abs glistened up at Stiles. It wasn't an ass shot but this was just as good.

 

And then he nearly dropped the phone when it made a shutter clicking noise as it took the picture. Fumbling the phone, Stiles just barely managing to turn back towards his laptop as Derek suspiciously looked up at him. "Did you just take a picture of me?"

 

"Oh uh, no! I took a picture of my screen." Stiles hurriedly turned the computer screen towards Derek, "My asshole thesis adviser told me to redo my thesis proposal for the third time. I was gonna send the picture to my friend."

 

Derek pushed himself up to his feet in a smooth, fluid motion that made envy and desire race through Stiles. He didn't understand how this guy was so effortlessly sexy! What was the story here? Could it be that Derek was some kind of part-time model or something? Or an ex-model? Oh God, he was coming to stand next to Stiles. 

 

The other man leaned down to glance at the email, raising an eyebrow at all of Finstock's bolded and caps laden email before asking, "Why not just forward the email to your friend?"

 

"Because he barely checks his email and always checks his phone because of his girlfriend."

 

With a shake of his head, Derek sighed something that sounded remarkably close to, "Teenagers." before asking, "Do you have a bucket or something I can dump the gunk into?"

 

"Uuuuhh..." Stiles glanced around the tiny kitchen wondering what could work as an alternative because he did  _not_ have a bucket on hand. "Why not just empty it into the waste basket?"

 

"Bring it over here, I'll take the pipe out."

 

Obediently, Stiles trotted into the bedroom to grab the waste basket (which was half filled with balled up papers, used tissues, and an empty can of Dew). As he walked back into the kitchen, Derek was standing back up with a curved pipe held in his hands. "Bring that here." Derek ordered, turning towards Stiles. 

 

Stiles held the waste basket out and tried not to gag at the  _goop_   that poured out of the pipe and into the basket. "What the  _hell_ is that! Oh God that is _nasty_!" It looked the kind of primordial ooze that horror movie monsters had dripping off them. Only with a lot more hair and unidentifiable white specks in the middle. He could feel his lunch crawling up his throat and tried not to heave.

 

"It's not as bad as it could be." Derek said, which made Stiles shoot him an alarmed look. If this wasn't bad then what the hell did bad look like. "But you should clean these pipes out every month to make sure there's no blockage."

 

Stiles looked away as a glob of blonde hair dripped out of the pipe and smacked into the wastebasket, "Given that I don't know shit about plumbing, consider this a monthly date between you and my kitchen sink then."

 

"Just me and the sink?" Derek asked, sounding like he was smiling.

 

Cautiously, Stiles looked back and yeah. The man  _was_ smiling a little bit. "Well. I can be here too if you're cool with it being a group date."

 

And just like that, Derek's smile turned into a smirk, "Good. Then I can teach you how to clean your own pipes. If you're flexible about that."


End file.
